A Letter of Loneliness: One-Shot
by nikkiandfranklin
Summary: An aging she-cat professes the love she still has for her former mate before Starclan made her become a medicine cat in a letter.


I want to make things clear. This is me, not saying goodbye. I know you thought that I've moved on a long time ago, and I know that no matter how many stares I throw your way that you'll never look at me like you once did. When we were legal. You have a mate now, and three wonderful daughters. Starclan, you've made me jealous. Watching you play with Creampaw, Thrushpaw, and Raypaw. That's all I've ever wanted. Your children are beautiful, just like you. I'm not. My fur is graying and my eyes are dull with fatigue. Seasons of loneliness will do that to someone. I'm looked at as just my rank- someone who can fix your cuts and scratches, be there to clean up your messes. No one has tried to befriend me, and my only sister has long ago stopped talking to me. Take it from me, being a medicine cat is lonely. The only thing that makes it lonelier is watching you. You haven't changed a bit- sure, you're an elder now, and your ears are split with scars, but to me you're the same as when you were a spritely young warrior. When we were mates. Your long fur is still tangled, and your face is still glowing with happiness. Your handsome dark blue eyes haven't changed a bit- I could stare into them forever. I know your every quirk and what makes you tick, I know when you're hiding your pain. Then again, that's probably my medicine cat side. Listen to me, being bitter. I should be happy I've lived so long. I'll retire soon, most likely. Dump this forsaken job onto dear Silverpaw. Then I can breathe again, get fat on mice and act as cranky as I want to because dangit, I've earned a right to boss my clanmates around! Countless moons of service as the hard-working healer have taken its toll. I can't sleep at night anymore, and when I do my dreams are plagued with nightmares. Mostly, the night I lost you. Replaying in my head like birdsong. I can see your eyes- all distressed. I wonder sometimes, on the worst nights, if you were faking it. If I really broke your heart. If you ever loved me. You moved on so quickly… If I'm the one who let you go, why am I the only one who still wants what we used to have? Foxdung to destinies. We could've had a life. I already imagined our children, Goldenstem. We'd have had three beautiful kits- two daughters and one son. Wolfkit would be the son, he'd be dark gray like me and have his father's gorgeous dark eyes and your bravery. Briarkit would be one of the daughters, she'd be a tiny thing. A sweet, friendly kit, she'd have your silky golden fur and my indigo eyes. Marigoldkit would be the other daughter. She'd be a magnificent hunter, like me, and a fast runner like you. She'd make all the other apprentices jealous. She'd have gray tabby fur, like your mom's. Her eyes would be this beautiful green like my father's were. We'd love them to death and we'd watch them grow up. But now that's gone, you have three wonderful kits of your own that are every bit as perfect as I'd imagined ours would be. If that was your plan to show me that you really had let go, it worked. Goldenstem, it worked. You shattered my heart into tiny pieces when you took Yellowfoot as a mate. Remember how I said I was sick and I wouldn't come out of my den for half of a moon? I was really in my den crying, fantasizing ways of getting rid of Yellowfoot. Not very saintly of me, I know. But I was still in love with you, _am_ still in love with you, no matter what the warrior code says. It was ok, wasn't it? In the short time that we were mates, we were brilliant. I was so sure we'd last forever. Apparently forever wasn't that long. I felt cheated when Starclan called on me to replace Mousefur. How could they? I had actually refused to become the medicine cat at first. I never told you that. I screamed obscenities at Starclan come nightfall, telling them to go eat crowfood because I would never abandon my dream life to go treat booboos and watch all the others warriors risk their lives in battle while I grew old in a den sorting who-knows-what. What made me change my mind? It was actually my formerly-loving sister that did it. I told her and confessed my unwillingness, and she shocked me by not supporting me but by going all doomsday. She told me that turning my back on Starclan was dangerous and cowardly, and that if I couldn't own up to my duty then I might as well become a kittypet. Her words stung me, Goldenstem, because of how shockingly true they were. I had no spine, no bravado that I so vainly sought after. As much as I loved being a warrior, I could never truly face the thought of a battle. Turning away from Starclan's choice in me was as worse as turning tail in midbattle. I'd have to serve my clanmates in other ways than fighting. So be it. Later that day I apologized profusely to Starclan, telling them I was ready for what they had planned for me. When I woke up from the last night in the warrior's den ever, I came to you immediately knowing I couldn't lead you on any more. I took you to our special spot, the one near the bubbling creek. I told you what Starclan told me. I didn't tell you how much I loved you, because I knew that would make it harder for both of us. Not saying anything was worse than telling you I hated you, because I watched as I broke your heart by fulfilling my destiny and I never did a thing to make you despise me. If I could, then maybe you could've made me hate you too. Then we would both be angry at each other and it would be so easy to let you go. I wouldn't be watching as you laughed at all of Yellowfoot's jokes that weren't even funny. You wouldn't have avoided my gaze. I wouldn't have to watch your daughters grow up into the most amazing apprentices I've ever seen, the kinds our kits should've turned out to be. I wouldn't be the pathetic lonely soul I am today, and the miserable elder I can see myself being in the future. I have no jaw-dropping stories of battle to tell to future generations, only boring tales of finding a surprise patch of catmint in the winter that would make even Silverpaw fall asleep. I would've had a life, and I'd rather die in battle blood-soaked and a hero than in my dementia when I'm an elder muttering about herbs and scaring little apprentices with my bedraggled appearance. No one wants to be boring, and I never wanted to be. I could've been a mother. I could've had a mate. I could've been a warrior that any sister would be proud of. I could've had friends. I could've loved you. All of my dreams were shattered when I had to become a medicine cat, but the only one I allowed myself to hug the fragments of was the love we once had for each other.


End file.
